


match your weakness with a name

by longliveus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confessions, Late Night Conversations, M/M, sakuatsu week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longliveus/pseuds/longliveus
Summary: Change the scenery and environment but the core of a person will remain.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 276
Collections: SakuAtsu Week 2020





	match your weakness with a name

There is something about the darkness of the night that makes Atsumu feel at ease, the same way he feels whenever he stands at an empty volleyball court.

The peaceful quietness washes over him, like a light rain, taking away all his layers and leaving him bare to the bone. He can take a breath then, and let himself be truly free, if only for a few hours.

But it also feels like the calm before the storm. When morning comes, it brings with it noisy teammates, bright artificial lights and the one person who has been clouding his mind lately.

When morning comes, he has to put on the overly loud and straightforward persona he created. It’s easier this way. He can pretend all those late night conversations with himself are not real. They are kept away at the back of his mind and are only allowed to come up to the surface under the moonlight.

He can’t let the feelings run wild in case someone catches on and makes him confess. Atsumu is one to mess with people for his own entertainment, but he never underestimates them. They are often smarter than they let on and so he had to learn not to wear his heart on his sleeve.

He sure is lucky none of his teammates have caught up on his feelings so far, though they came close on occasion, disguised as a joke.

“If you keep staring at Omi-san like that, you’re going to burn a hole in the back of his neck,” a hushed voice says behind him, making his heart beat faster. A freezing chill runs down his body at the thought of being caught like a deer in headlights. He turns around slowly, trying to keep his breath even and finds none other than Hinata looking at him with a big smile and wide, curious eyes.

“What’re ya talkin’ about, Shouyou-kun?” He chooses to play dumb. He always does. It has worked up until now. He wonders how much longer it will last.

Hinata sits next to him and Atsumu is grateful he keeps his voice low when he keeps talking.

“You’ve been looking at Omi-san a lot lately,” he says, staring at the net above them. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, I guess, and I won’t say anything but I wonder...”

Atsumu knows. But he can’t give an honest answer. Not yet, at least. It’s not like he doesn’t trust Hinata; he does, in fact, on and off the court. But not only does he fear he will accidentally say something, he actually haven’t figured it out yet.

Still, it kind of feels like he’s lying, so he tries his best not to let it show.

“No,” he replies, short and simple. Because that’s how it is. They won’t find anything even if they dig deeper and deeper.

(He hopes they won’t find anything.)

Atsumu looks at Hinata from the corner of his eyes and notices the younger boy’s eyes growing a bit wider at his answer. It’s almost as if he was waiting another response and is now shocked at the truth presented to him. His mind must be running twenty miles per second, filled with a million questions that won’t come out of his mouth, probably because he doesn’t know how to word them.

“I figured... eh, you know.” Hinata taps his finger on the floor. An habit, Atsumu came to learn, he does when he thinks he made a mistake and is embarrassed about it. He shakes his head and the smile is back again. “Nevermind, if you need to talk, I’ll listen.”

For someone who is constantly running around and screaming, Hinata does sound mature sometimes. Even more than him.

Atsumu can only nod, smiling back.

Hinata stands up, then, and stretches his arms up. He pats Atsumu on the back and with a last look over his shoulder, he walks towards the locker room to get changed.

Atsumu didn’t notice the gymnasium going quiet while he was talking with the team’s personal sunshine. He checks around and finds that there’s only one more person with him.

Sakusa is still sitting with his legs crossed over one another on the very far end of the court. He has his hands folded over his lap.

It comes as a surprise to find him there, Atsumu thinks. He’s usually the first one to leave, not wanting to share a closed off space with sweaty, disgusting people or so.

“Yo, Omi-kun, yer still here!”

He approaches Sakusa but stops a few feet away from him. He stands on his spot with his hands behind his back as he looks down at the wing spiker, a smirk present on his face.

Here’s the thing: he likes provoking Sakusa but he has always respected his limits.

He knows exactly what to say to rile people up but Sakusa’s one of the few, if not the only one, who never fell into his trap. He would always counteract everything that’d come out of Atsumu’s. Almost as if he was ready for it.

There’s something about him that caught his attention the first time they met, all those years ago. His distancing and aversion to touch, his boundaries, his fears, his phobia obviously clear even if he never stated it out loud. Atsumu knew about it and accepted it.

“What do you want?” Sakusa’s voice gets through his mind and stops his train of thoughts.

He focus on the pair of eyes, that would send daggers his way if it was possible, and realizes he’s been staring.

Talking about getting caught.

“Eh, nothing, can’t I talk with my favorite teammate now?”

It’s in times like this, when he feels he’s exposed too much of himself to other people they might start seeing through him, that he wishes he wore a face mask just like Sakusa does. It would at least hide his face, the heat on his cheeks increasing with every second.

Sakusa breaks eye contact and returns his gaze back to the floor.

They stay like this for some minutes, Atsumu hovering over Sakusa, examining his posture and how the black strands of hair fall over his face. Delicately, he’d say, if they weren’t damp because of the sweat. And maybe, even then.

He’s about to leave for the locker room when he hears him.

“I lost track of time when doing receiving practice and I didn’t notice they were already leaving so I’m waiting until they’re gone.”

Atsumu only hums in acknowledgement and looks at him for one last time before leaving the court.

He takes a shower and changes into clean clothes. He leaves the gymnasium with a warm feeling in his chest, in the middle of the cold December.

He tries not to think about how, for someone who’s over six feet, he looked so small. And he desperately tries not to think about how much he was craving to run his finger through his hair and trace over the moles over his right eyebrow.

Those are thoughts reserved for the night when there are no one but him and the moon to witness them.

* * *

He’s at the rooftop of the building. A hot mug of coffee on his hands and a storm raging inside his head. A black cloud looming over him but leaving path for him to look at the sky full of stars.

It’s become a routine for him: he sits under the moonlight every night, especially after an emotionally rough day, and lets his emotions flow with the wind.

He used to do it back in Hyogo, at home. He would sneak out of his and Osamu’s bedroom, trying not to make any sound, and sit on the backyard and think. Think until there was nothing else to think about. He would, more often than not, fall asleep over the fresh grass and wake up the following day with his whole body aching.

Change the scenery and environment but the core of a person will remain.

He takes a sip of his coffee and sighs. The breeze is weak but it’s as cold as ever, seeping through his skin and making his bones turn into ice. He should have put on something else other than the long sleeved shirt.

He sets the mug in the floor beside him and hugs his knees with both his arms, in a futile attempt to fight the gelid wind.

He knows the weather of this freezing December night is not the only thing giving him goosebumps.

He has never felt like this before: he’ll admit it isn’t just a little crush anymore but it still isn’t love. It’s something in between and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

He wishes it was only a fleeting thing, something that it would be gone in a matter of weeks but it has stayed and taken root inside his heart. And he couldn’t—he can’t—shake it off, no matter how hard he tries.

He thinks back to the first time they properly met. Standing opposite each other, on their own side behind the net. He knows he gave it his all but it wasn’t enough and he had to watch the other get all the glory.

Then, at the All-Japan training camp. Of course he was selected. One of the top three aces in the nation. Atsumu was thrilled to stand on the same side of the court as him. He was excited about getting to know him well and learn about his strengths and weaknesses.

But they never played against each other again and Atsumu thought that was the last time he’d see him. He knew damn well that life can turn around and mess you up sometimes.

Sakusa eventually became a distant figure in Atsumu’s picture, blended in the background, so blurry you can’t identify who it is. He wasn’t the looming nightmare anymore.

Instead, his new nightmares were all about failing and not having anyone—his brother—to help him get back up.

Osamu quitting volleyball pushed Sakusa to the very back of his mind. It broke him, it left him feeling as if he had lost a limb that couldn’t be replaced. The perfect match and partner for him left, and with him, he took a part of Atsumu away.

You can only do so much when you lose a part of yourself. Just keep on wishing you will find something—someone—good enough to fill its place.

And then: enter Sakusa Kiyoomi. Again.

Their renewed relationship started on the wrong foot. He knew about Sakusa’s boundaries but the moment he saw him standing at the sidelines, the only thing on his mind was _‘He’s here’_. He run to him and tried to go for an one arm hug. It only got him a sharp glare and the warning to stay away from him.

Soon, they fell into a routine and Atsumu couldn’t be happier. He would hit every ball Atsumu set for him, putting that wicked spin of his on it, and slamming it to a tight spot on the other side of the court, impossible to receive.

Atsumu became enamored with the way Sakusa plays: how he analyzes every move and decides what the best course of action is. The way he moves around the court. It hypnotizes him to no end.

As the days and the weeks passed, Atsumu found himself walking on his tip toes around Sakusa. Respecting his limits but yearning to get close. To be the one to get close. To lean in just at the right angle. To tuck that strand of hair behind his ear. To draw over his moles and maybe, to explore his body in search of constellations.

In retrospect, he should have seen it coming. The lingering gazes, the warmth he feels all over his body, the way-too-easy smiles. The way he is pulled into him, like a magnet. The way he _knows_ he’ll go insane if he doesn’t hear him say a word in his direction.

He tried to deny it too many times but it’s late now to stop the feelings from developing. The only thing he can do is to hope his heart and soul don’t shatter in the process.

“Miya? What are you doing here?”

Atsumu gets startled at the voice coming from behind him, his body paralyzed and his heartbeat fastening up. The mug of coffee, long forgotten, almost dropped as he turns around quickly and finds Sakusa standing at the door of the rooftop.

What is _he_ doing here?

In the darkness, Atsumu can only tell that Sakusa has his arms crossed over his chest and that his eyes are fixated on him. If he tries hard enough, he can see a smug, little smirk. He’s probably delighted about having scared Atsumu.

“Say, Miya,” he says, pushing himself off of the door. He walks toward him, his hands now deep down in the pockets of his hoodie. “Aren’t you a little underdressed for the weather?”

A chorus of _‘keep yourself together, play it cool, do not let him see through you’_ chants loudly in his mind.

“My my, Omi-kun, are ya worried ‘bout me?” he asks with a playful tone, wishing that’s enough of a wall to keep him away.

He half expects a low huff, him muttering _“fuck off”_ something along the lines. He isn’t expecting Sakusa’s answer at all.

“Contrary to popular belief, I am. You can get sick,” he declares, his eyes never leaving Atsumu. “And while under other circumstances, I wouldn’t care less, right now you’re part of a team and you can’t let your teammates hanging just because you decided to challenge the low temperature.”

Atsumu can only stare. It takes him a few seconds—seconds that always feel like an eternity when Sakusa’s concerned—to process the words. _I am worried_. Who would have thought? Sakusa Kiyoomi admitting to be worried about him, of all people. Nevermind what he said after, there’s only one thing stuck on his mind now.

“You never answered my question.”

His voice, a tone a little bit lower and softer at the edges, shakes Atsumu out of his trance. He shakes his head and breaks the eye contact. What had he asked?

“Uh? What?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah, that,” he chuckles, thinking carefully what to say. He can’t just say, _“thinking ‘bout you, y’know, and how I think I may be in love with you,”_. In the most neutral tone he can muster, he replies: “Some old late night thinking, y’know. What ‘bout ya?”

To his surprise, Sakusa sits next to him, their shoulders almost brushing. Atsumu can’t stop the warmth inside him from spreading all over his body just at the close proximity. Even in the coldest night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sakusa replies.

Well, that much is clear. Unless he was working on something, which is unlikely, why else would he be awake at two in the morning?

“You gotta be more specific, are ya nervous ‘bout something?” He asks, turning his head to look at him. What is it that keeps Sakusa Kiyoomi awake at night?

Sakusa looks up and sighs. He isn’t wearing a face mask, and hot air pasts his lips and Atsumu thinks.

There isn’t a wall surrounding him like there is during the day. When the sun sets and the world around them turns into a colorful canvas, the wall comes crumbling down and Sakusa looks vulnerable under the night sky, yet so strong at the same time.

“Same as you, I guess, some old late night thinking,” Sakusa mocks him and Atsumu can’t even be a little mad when there’s the tiniest but so precious smile tugging at the end of his lips and he should smile more often, Atsumu thinks. It looks good on him.

What doesn’t look good on him?

* * *

And so they fall into a new routine.

When their night thoughts are too loud to keep them in their heads, they meet at the rooftop, and share the silence, hushed words and the warmth of each other’s company.

They let their thoughts wander into the comfortable quietness between them.

After the fourth time of finding Atsumu shivering in the cold because he forgot to put on a jacket, Sakusa starts bringing a blanket with him. He offers it to Atsumu, with the promise of returning it clean the next day.

“Why can’t I keep it?” Atsumu asks one night, wrapping the blanket around him. A clear sky above them and the distant city lights extending in front of then into the horizon.

“You always forget to bring a jacket, why would I trust you to bring the blanket?”

“You don’t trust me, Omi-kun? That hurts, y’know?” Atsumu says, his hand curling around the blanket in the most dramatic way.

Sakusa doesn’t say anything. It should be unnerving, no getting an answer, but Atsumu knows better. He knows Sakusa trusts him, even if he says otherwise or won’t admit it. It’s okay. He won’t admit he trusts Sakusa, too.

The more time they spend together, the more Atsumu feels like falling and falling into an never ending abyss.

During the day, Atsumu pretends not to notice he tosses to Sakusa more than usual, and every time the ball smashes on the other side of the net, his smiles even bigger. He pretends not to know he always seeks him and stands far too close.

(He thinks back to that conversation with Hinata and hopes they still haven’t found anything.)

And during the nights, Atsumu pretends his heart doesn’t beat faster and out of time. He pretends the heat he feels in his chest is because of the blanket.

The only thing he can’t pretend—the only thing he can’t ignore—is the overwhelming desire to touch, to hold, to kiss. To love.

He has never felt like this before and he’s afraid but curious and excited at the same time.

He looks at Sakusa, the right side of his face illuminated by the moonlight, giving him an celestial look. And his moles truly look like stars, lost on Earth when they should be hung up on the sky. And Sakusa looks at him, his eyebrows slightly furrowing, and he should stop doing that, he’ll get wrinkles pretty early. And his mouth is moving and Atsumu can’t understand any of the words coming out of him as the only thought in his head is _he has nice lips, what would they feel like pressed up against mine?_

“Atsumu?”

Atsumu is brought back to reality upon hearing Sakusa’s voice saying his name. It feels so right: his name had never sounded so perfect.

Like the tides in the ocean, he can’t fight the pull he feels whenever Sakusa is near him.

“Are you okay, Atsumu?”

He doesn’t reply with words. Just a nod is enough. He’s okay. He’s more than okay. There’s only...

“Have you ever felt like you’re standin’ on a cliff and suddenly the ground beneath you crumbles down and you fall into nothing and you keep fallin’?” he asks. He doesn’t look at Sakusa, can’t look at him. “Does that even make sense?”

After a long minute, Sakusa replies. “I guess it does. And yes, I’ve been feeling like that, lately. That’s what keeps me awake at night.”

It sounds like a confession, a secret only meant for Atsumu to know.

He wants to know if he fears the falling, the not knowing if there’s someone ready to rescue him, the not knowing if someone would even think about saving him. He wants to know when it started and what is exactly what keeps Sakusa awake during the nights. He wants to know if there’s something he can do to help, even when he can’t help himself.

“Doesn’t it bother ya during the day?”

“No,” Sakusa says, and Atsumu looks at him from the corner of his eyes and sees that his gaze is fixated on the sky, his face tilted upwards and the dark glow surrounding him, making him shine like a star in Atsumu’s eyes. “It’s easier, actually. My mind is busy with practice and things I need to do. I don’t have time to think about it. But when I get into bed, this... feeling, that’s the only thing I can think of and it’s not like, you know, I can turn off my brain and just sleep. Looking at the stars always helped me clear my mind when I was a kid.”

Atsumu imagines a small Sakusa, sitting cross-legged on the backyard of his home in Tokyo, looking at the same sky as him in Hyogo. Talking to no one but the stars. Hoping their parents won’t notice they’re not sleeping in their beds, tucked away and safe from the world outside.

He never believed in soulmates, in intertwined destinies. He never believed in fated meetings, in the ‘better half’ pulling at a red string from across the world. He never believed in those cliché stories about finding the right person. There has never been a ‘right person’ for him.

But the one thing he always believed—the one thing he kept wishing to find—was that there’s someone out there, in this fragile yet merciless world, that will make him a better person.

Someone who will make him feel like seconds last forever. Someone who will make him feel like the Earth stopped spinning around the Sun and they’re floating in the vast universe. Someone who will hold his gaze with the delicacy you hold an hourglass made of crystal. Someone who will make every moment worth it. Someone who will be his plan A, plan B all the way to plan Z.

He never believed in fairytales but he does believe he found the person who will bring the best out of him.

“And what is it that don’t let you sleep?” Atsumu asks, trying to keep all his feelings at bay. He may have found the right person but there’s something holding him back. The fear of rejection, the fear of loss. Just when he found _him_. He can’t lose him.

Sakusa turns to look at him, his eyes so dark, it’s even more difficult to guess what he’s thinking.

“You.”

If he wasn’t sure one second ago, right now it’s confirmed as the tips of his ears go from pink from the cold to crimson red, as his heartbeat picks up the speed, as he feels the blanket around him is _too much_.

“I-I... you, I... uh, what..” The words stumble over each other as they try to leave his mouth at the same time. Not even his thoughts are coherent. There’s a mess in his head and he can’t even string two words together.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Sakusa says, his voice neutral and his eyes glued to the floor. “It’s not like I expected you to—”

“I like you, too,” Atsumu says and reaches his hand to touch Sakusa’s arm. He flinches away on instinct but relaxes a second later. He doesn’t tell Atsumu to stay away.

“I never said I liked you,” Sakusa points out. And it’s true, that’s not what he said but it is what Atsumu heard and now he feels embarrassed and out of place. He lets his hand fall from Sakusa’s arm and he must have felt it because he quickly takes Atsumu’s hand, with uncertainty on the tip of his fingers, and intertwine them together. “I do, though. I don’t know why but I like you.”

The words leave behind a sweet trace, a gentle sound that envelopes him in a careful embrace.

That someone he once wished to find. Sakusa Kiyoomi is that someone who makes him feel like this night, and all the nights to come, can last forever.

**Author's Note:**

> for the sakuatsu week, day 3—tier 3: “you are not the only one to sit awake until the wild feelings leave.”
> 
> i’m [@miyatsumus](http://twitter.com/miyatsumus) on twitter; come say hi!


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